


one little word

by nightskywithrainbows



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Good Draco Malfoy, Lucius and Narcissa Are Good Parents, POV Draco Malfoy, References To Rape/Torture, idk why i wrote this, or at least they used to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26821135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightskywithrainbows/pseuds/nightskywithrainbows
Summary: just a short drabble. draco pov of 7th year when voldy was in malfoy manor. canon compliant.
Kudos: 5





	one little word

“One little word, Draco. You know the incantation. It is simple and easy. One word.”

His breathing is controlled, ignoring the itch in his throat from the damp air of the dungeons.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

The words are hissed and soft and venomous. 

“What could possibly be inhibiting your capability right now? Raise your wand. Point it at the filth. Say the word. Crucio. It is not that hard.”

He raises the wand, but his hand stays loose on it, lips pursed firmly together. 

“Fine.” And this word is slightly louder, loud and grating and hateful and for a moment Draco falters in his control. 

_“Crucio.”_

And he is on the ground, curling in on himself, writhing and crying, but he can’t scream, because as painful as these chains are, they are all that holds him together. 

When it lifts- after who knows how long- he stands, shaky and hurting with the remnants of the curse, on his feet. 

He inhales the dungeon air. 

And says nothing. 

His father continues speaking, poisonous honey flowing smoothly from his lips. Draco is cursed, again and again, and berated and chided and abused, but he does not break. He stands and falls and stays, in front of the nameless muggle captured for “training, and a little bit of more intimate fun, if you catch my drift.”

He wonders when this happened. He thinks of summer evenings shrieking with laughter as his father yells “Draco Lucius Malfoy! It is dinner time and you are still on that broom. Get- I said get down here! This instant!”. He thinks of winter nights in front of a roaring fireplace, sitting on his mother’s lap and drifting off to sleep as his parents converse quietly. He thinks of his father and his mother, composed and cold and proud and _his,_ his loving parents, turned into terrified servants, looking every which way for an out. 

He screams inside as his father, mind broken beneath the proud exterior, ends the curse and points his wand at the muggle. 

Then he is dismissed. 

On his way out of the dungeons, holding his breath to stop the cries, blinking his eyes to stop the tears, he passes by a cell. This cell is filled with an odd assortment of prisoners: a batty girl with the name of the moon, a wizened old man, a brave boy almost broken but not quite, a goblin witnessing the next in a long line of countless wrongs against him. 

Draco slips them food, and healing, and whatever vestiges of comfort he can give. 

Then he erases the spells from his wand and slips upstairs, ignoring the bloodied broken body of the muggle that he took pain for, sneaking up then walking back down to the dining hall filled with snakes and death eaters and a master who thrives on pain, more dead than alive.


End file.
